rod, gathered it, wrapped it around her, the twin horrors of the past few minutes sinking in.
“Where… where are the girls?” she asked. Her voice sounded small, defeated, distant.
Aleks turned his head, looked at her. For a moment she wasn’t sure he knew who she was.
“Clean yourself up,” he said. “We are leaving in twenty minutes.”
FORTY-ONE
The police officer was nervous. He was young, no more than twenty-two or so. His partner was a little older. Maybe his FTO, Michael thought, his field-training officer. Once the older cop had assessed that there was no imminent danger in the parking lot of the Squires Inn, he had told the other two patrol cars they could move on.
The young officer had worked it by the book, first asking for identification, then patting Michael down.
Michael had explained who he was, and that he was here investigating a case. He hoped that, being from a smaller town, the kid did not know that, as a rule, ADAs did not really do any fieldwork. He did not.
The officer had looked at Michael’s outfit, perhaps wondering why a Queens County prosecutor was wearing maroon golf slacks and a raincoat that were both clearly two sizes too big for him. If he was wondering, he said nothing about it. But Michael knew the mindset, even for a young cop. Something was off. And when something was off, it did not right itself.
“And why don’t you have any ID, sir?”
“It’s in my golf bag,” Michael said. “I got this call about a witness going squirrelly on us and I just jumped in the car.”
The officer looked at the blue Ford, then back. He glanced at his partner, who just shrugged.
According to the officer, a call had come in on 911 of two men fighting in the parking lot of the Squires Inn Motel. Michael said he knew nothing about it.
Michael snuck a glance at his watch. He had missed the call from Kolya.
“Could you wait right here for me?” the officer asked. He pointed to the rear of the Ford. Michael moved to the back of the car.
“Sure.”
As Michael approached he noticed a thin trickle of blood coming from the lid of the trunk. He moved from the left rear fender to the trunk, leaned against it.
As the young officer communicated on the radio, he looked from the laptop in his cruiser, to Michael, back. It seemed to take forever. Michael glanced again at his watch. He was now a full five minutes past the deadline.
The officer got out of the car.
“Sorry about this, Mr Roman. You know how it is. You get the call you have to check it out.”
“I understand.”
The kid looked at him for a few more seconds, then around the parking lot, at the motel itself, still not really comprehending the situation. Michael knew he would have crazier days than this.
“Have a good day, sir.”
Michael wondered how the uniformed officers had gotten the call. Had Kolya’s cousin seen the altercation from the office? Had she seen what happened and called Kolya, and now something had happened to Abby, Charlotte and Emily?
He glanced at his watch a third time. There was no point going back inside.
He slipped into the Ford, turned over the engine. Under the seat was Omar’s pistol and cellphone. He was glad the incident with the police had not progressed to a search of the vehicle. A few moments later he pulled out of the parking lot, and merged into traffic.
He headed home.
FORTY-TWO
Aleks had not intended to let Kolya live, but neither had he expected it to end like this. He hated it when things got messy, and this was as messy as it could be.
He had owed Kolya’s father Konstantine many debts – indeed, the man had saved his life on more than one occasion – but the son held no power over him, had earned no such arrears.
While Abby took a shower, Aleks dragged Kolya’s body into the clothes closet. The bedroom was all but coated with blood, and moving the heavy, lifeless form streaked even further a deep crimson into the light-colored carpeting.
He went through Kolya’s pockets, taking the dead man’s cellphone, but leaving his wallet, which was connected to a belt loop via a silver chain. He opened the phone, checked the list of recently placed calls. The last call to the motel was more than forty minutes ago. Aleks hit the redial. The phone at the motel rang twice, three times, four times, five. Michael Roman was no longer there. If he was, he would certainly have answered the phone. Aleks scrolled down the list until he came to Omar’s cellphone number. Figuring that Omar had Kolya on his caller ID list, Aleks took out one of his prepaid cellphones. He dialed Omar’s number. The phone rang once, twice…
… THREE TIMES. Michael stared at the phone in his hands. The readout said the call was coming from a private number. He turned on the radio, then the heater, cranking the fan to high. He opened his window. On the fifth ring he answered. He kept his mouth a few inches away from the phone, answered.
“Yeah.”
Silence from the other end. “Are you still at the motel?”
It was Aleks. He was calling Omar. He was calling Omar to see if Michael was still under lock and key. Why hadn’t Kolya placed the call? Michael tried to remember Omar’s voice. It was deep. He hoped the background noise covered him. “Yeah.”
Another hesitation. This time Michael heard the girls talking in the background. They were with Aleks. His heart shattered.
“Do not come here Mr Roman,” Aleks said. “If you do you will not like what you find.”
“Listen,” Michael said. “Just tell me what you want. You can have everything I have. Just don’t hurt my family.”
For a moment, Michael thought Aleks might have hung up. He had not. “If you come here you will drown in your family’s blood.”
The phone clicked. The connection was broken.
Michael slammed his fist into the dashboard three times. He pushed the speedometer to eighty.
They were ready. The woman had packed a pair of bags for herself and the girls, as well as some food. Everything Aleks needed was in his leather shoulder bag. The gear was stacked near the front door.
In a moment Aleks would collect the girls from the backyard, explaining to them that they were going on a little journey. They would take Kolya’s SUV. They would find somewhere to hide for just a few hours, until midnight, then they would head for the Canadian border.
By this time tomorrow they would be in Canada, and he would be one step closer to becoming deathless. By this time tomorrow the woman would be dead, and Anna and Marya would be his. This had not gone as smoothly as he would have liked, but there was nothing to be done about that now.
You’ll never get them out of the country. Someone is going to catch you.
Perhaps Abigail was right. He touched the two empty crystal vials on the chain around his neck. If they closed in on him and the girls, he knew what he had to do.
For now, though, he still had his daughters, and there were no obstacles on the horizon.
Then the doorbell rang.
Abby looked out the front window. In the drive was a late-model dark sedan. She had not heard anyone drive up, and she always did. She was attuned to the sounds around her house. But the horror of this day, as well as the
